A Sea of Oneshots
by SeeminglyAngelic
Summary: Number 11: And as he sits there and sings love songs, Olivia Ryan pretends they were meant for her.
1. Placid AxCxJxC

**Disclaimer: It is disclaimed.**

**AN: This came to me out of nowhere.**

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**_T_**ears filled the corners of her eyes, and she looked down at the rushing waters, biting her lip. Never had anyone seen her like this before. Running out of pure shame and embarrassment? Been there, done that. But even then, she'd looked her best, full of what could be called confidence. Or at least confidence was regained three seconds later. But now, she was officially a mess. Like a coffee stain on a Rocawear purse, she was a mess that couldn't be cleaned up.

Mascara ran down her face, which was probably puffy from crying by now. Her hair lashed around her face in whips, only tamed by the gray hood she had on. Shivering in the Abercrombie hoody (which the others knew nothing about, thank goodness), she felt unexplainably ugly. Come on, she was standing there in her prom dress. She should've been dancing with her friends, celebrating the start of something new.

Her arms were folded in the too long sleeves; a useless protection against the chilling winds. Why was it so cold that night? Just earlier, it had been perfect. Well, not exactly.

_A couple in the middle of the dance floor: how typical. It just so happened that the spotlight was on them, which just happened to be shaped like a heart: clichéd. The girl coincidentally was on the rebound from a certain boy in a leather jacket. By chance, the guy had been waiting for this moment since the moment he set eyes on her in seventh grade._  
That's why she was standing there on the bridge. The only problem was she didn't know how she'd ended up there. All she could remember was running like there was no tomorrow. Even though she was wearing heels, she'd put every track star in history to shame.

"Claire, I just wanted to tell you something," he says, looking down at her smiling face. She looked back up at him, blue eyes sparkling. Anything would do right now to soothe the damage to her heart.

"Yes?" She sounded so hopeful, but her eyes said something else. Or was it the fact that she kept on glancing back at Cameron Fisher? He should've noticed that.

"I love you. I want to spend the rest of my…" He paused dramatically, getting on one knee. Claire's eyes widened, and she frantically nodded her head 'yes', before he could even finish.

He kept talking anyway. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

That was all the girl who'd been silently watching needed to hear. She immediately raced out of the gym doors, never once looking back.

Now, with her makeup and hair messed up, missing one shoe, and wearing a hoody that didn't match the fuchsia on her dress, she felt the weight of the world on her. No matter who she was with, she was ignored, like a background dancer in a music video. Nobody cared; they were too busy watching the star of the show.

The applause when he'd gotten down on his knee for Claire roared in her head, like crashing waves, or thunder. Only this was ten times more menacing. Physical scars healed, the pain eventually went away. But emotional scars stayed with you forever, ruining your life. Every waking moment, you'd feel the sting of an emotional scar, feeling the weight of your own heart on yourself with every passing day.

_Life was going to suck._

And for a second, looking down at the peaceful river, she actually considered jumping. But, after all the time and money she'd spent for this day, jumping  
off of the bridge was completely out of the question. After all, she couldn't jump for her life anyway. She'd just have to collect herself and smile at the wedding, while she held a bouquet, pretending to love her bridesmaid dress.

_It was really going to suck._

"Alicia!" She turned around to see who'd been calling her, a mixture of confusion and embarrassment on her face. Couldn't they have waited until she had fixed herself up again? Or found her Miu Miu jacket?

"I saw you running and I followed you here. It sucks, doesn't it?"

The smell of Drakkar Noir overtook her, and she stepped away, coughing. There was nothing worse then when a boy who abused colognes, since they all smelled kind of like rubbing alcohol.

"Gawd, Cam, are you trying to choke me?" Alicia snapped, coughing again. She used the long sleeve to cover her nose, causing her hood to promptly fall off of her head. "And what're you smiling about? Claire's going to marry Josh!"

Cam just shrugged, smirking at her. "You know she's on the rebound." He sounded just like Derrick Harrington.

"Yes, because you're so irresistible that she would stay on the rebound for five years. She probably dreamed about you the whole time." She snorted, deciding not to mention that it was true. Claire had never stopped thinking about him since that day in seventh grade. And rumor had it, neither had that Nikki girl.

"Don't hate."

The two stood their in silence, just staring at the water. Turning to face him, she realized something:

He did so miss Claire.

It was pretty obvious, since he always was bad at concealing emotions. His eyes shined with the same hurt that hers did, and the same shock. Alicia even thought that she saw a couple of tears. Maybe it was just the wind?

It didn't matter that they were both miserable. They stood there, arms folded, shaking in the wind. Both enjoying the whoosh of the wind, the sound of the water, and each other's silence.

"So, are you going to do anything about it?" Alicia finally willed herself to ask. The smirk somehow made its way back onto Cam's face, and he turned away from the water.

"Yes. And you are too." He said that with finality, like she was supposed to agree instantly. Before she could even ask why, he silenced her with a look. "Because I said so."

"Placid?" She grinned up at him.

"Placid. Now take my jacket."

Claire was going to get it.

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**Which characters do you want to be featured in the next oneshot or drabble? R&R! First person to pick someone will get that person in the next one!**


	2. Perfect MxK

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

**AN: I'm using Chris P., Claire, Kemp, and Massie, just like in the first review from LGG!**

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**M**assie Block had the life she'd dreamed of since the third grade. Successful career, tons of money, friends and family, and a large fan base. Or at least, it was what she thought she wanted. Despite the socialite smiles she put on her life was miserable.

Derrick was cheating on her – with her best friend.

"_That wasn't what it looked like!" Derrick ran after her, catching up easily thanks to all the exercise he got via soccer training. He had been picked for a callback sort of thing for Brazil's professional team._

"_I thought you had practice!" Massie screamed back. "What am I supposed to think when I come to Claire's house, and your car is parked here? And am I supposed to believe that you purposely kissing her was an accident?"_

_Derrick stopped running and grabbed her arm violently. "You followed me here didn't you? You just can't accept that I have a life and that everyone likes me better! You may be a boss, but that's about all, nobody really cares about you! So if you know what's good for you, we're staying together! You're nothing without me! I started this with my money! And I can take it away too!"_

_Massie blinked back tears in her eyes. Massie Block never cried. Ever. Until he slapped her across the face._

"_Are we clear?" He snapped._

_Massie could only nod as Claire came into the doorway, watching with wide, innocent eyes. She wanted to claw those eyes out._

Her supposed friends hated her after all her queen bee act had put them through.

"_This isn't your 'reality' show! Problems aren't going to end in just thirty minutes!" Chris snapped. "You broke not only me and Dylan, but Josh and Alicia up! You ruined our lives! Do you know what it's like to become depressed because the girl you were planning on spending your life with is too intimidated to even look at you?"_

_Massie didn't flinch, but her eyes said it all. How could he accuse her like that? Nobody put a gun to Dylan's head and made her break up with him in senior year! It was just because Derrick had called her immature again – couldn't Chris realize that and feel some pity?_

"_Josh has a drinking habit! And you know why? Because you're too immature to even think about other people's feelings! You're a selfish baby!" The door slammed in Massie's face. It was like her heart had been caught between the hinges._

Her kids weren't even like her kids anymore.

"_They're so adorable!" Kristen squealed. Derrick Jr. and Chanel ran around in circles, asking if either of them had any candy to share. Massie would be able to kick that habit by the time they turned five, she knew it. Even with how serious Derrick Jr.'s sugar addiction was._

_The door opened and Salina, the live-in housekeeper came inside, carrying giant grocery bags._

"_MOMMY!" Chanel and Derrick Jr. cried, running over to hug the woman's legs. "We missed you so much mommy!"_

_Kristen looked at Massie, not saying a word. She didn't have to._

Massie kept her head held high, and pretended that the ancient wine in her hand tasted good. She imagined that her life was as perfect as the press told little kids it was, and she acted like she lived the life of a role model.

"Hey Mass, I have some bad news." Kemp Hurley was talking out of the corner of his mouth like a spy. Whether he was trying to lighten the mood or be funny, was what Massie couldn't decide.

"If it's about Derrick and Claire, I already know," Massie kept her gaze ahead, to where Derrick, Claire, Dylan, and Cam were laughing about something. Probably some boring socialite joke that nobody would find funny if they weren't at such a fancy ball.

Kemp gave her a puppy dog look, tilting his head to the side. He reminded her of when Bean begged, but he looked more like a poodle with his haircut. "Then why would you stay with him? You've got plenty of money yourself."

Massie took a deep breath. "He emptied my bank account."

Kemp walked in front of her, lowering his tone to a whisper. "Well, maybe…if you needed help, I could help you out."

Was Kemp Hurley, official and undefeated playboy of BOCD – scratch that, _New York State_ actually offering to help? There had to be a catch! Nobody ever offered to help unless something was in it for them! That was the way things were!

"What's in it for you?" Massie gritted her teeth, ready to throw her glass in his face.

"Just dump him," Kemp said softly. Why was he talking like that? "He's no good for you. If you can find the courage to do that, then I'll find the cash to help you out."

"And?" Massie hissed, still not believing him. People like them weren't generous unless the press was watching. And this was a private party.

"And, say yes."

Kemp slipped a small package into Massie's hands, before making his way to go and greet some old friends – who had been dragged their by their dates.

Massie flipped the small box open and saw a diamond ring, studded with rubies. Did she mention that she loved her life?

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**Ew, you probably never want to read a Kempsie again!**


	3. See Cam Run NxCxC

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed**

**AN: Don't worry, I will get to your requests, I just had to get to my own personal inspiration!**

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**T**rapped. Cornered. Caught.

And faced by the two people he had been trying to avoid all day. The two people he'd been running from since first period. They'd finally caught up to him, in a dead end of all places. He felt like a deer in the headlights.

**Q**uestions. Answers. The truth.

She was finally going to hear what she'd needed to hear since she first saw the conversations. And, with the brunette by her side, there was no place he could run to. She felt accomplished.

**S**mug. Relishing the moment. Evil.

"Hey Claire," he muttered. "Hey…Nikki."

She felt complete.

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**My apologies if you're wondering what this was about. I got this image out of nowhere of Cam running from them, and thought he would look pretty funny.**


	4. Coach CxD

**Disclaimer: This is disclaimed!**

**AN: Since a Clairington was requested, here a Clairington is! It kind of sucks.**

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**T**here were many things Claire had been forced to learn the hard way. For example, she learned that showing up in a place like Westchester wearing Gap and gummy bracelets was a huge 'don't'. Another thing she learned was that wearing all black sneakers with a white-and-navy outfit was a crime. Or that no matter if you're dating a guy or married to him, there will come a time when he checks out other girls. But, the one thing that she just couldn't get over was that she sucked at soccer.

"Try to kick the ball _into_ the net!" Her soccer tutor snapped, rubbing his head. Claire kicked another ball, hoping that he'd get knocked out. Why was Derrick Harrington so egotistic anyway? And who'd ever heard of a gym coach? The whole thing sounded stupid.

"How about I aim for your face?" Claire replied, sighing to herself. She took two giant steps backwards, and ran forwards, kicking the ball with all her might. Even though 'all her might' wasn't very much, the ball still went flying with enough force to knock a trained goalie down. How did she know? Because it hit Derrick promptly in the stomach, and he fell over, tangling himself in the net.

Claire covered her mouth with her hands, and ran towards him cautiously. Who knew what Derrick might do? He might kick her, and with his athletic ability, she would go flying across the field. Or at least, Claire had convinced herself she would go flying. So, as she advanced, she braced for impact

Instead of beating her up like she expected, Derrick began _clapping_. "See, you have to be angry when you kick! Like I think of Massie and that gets me _really_ mad. And Cam thinks of you!"

Claire stuck her tongue out and pouted. "I'm going to tell her you said that!" She snapped.

"Go ahead; I don't care what the 'queen bee' thinks anyway. What is she going to do, cut me with her credit cards?" Derrick winced like he was in pain. "Oh, I'm so sorry Massie! NO! Not my face! Don't use the Visa on my face _nooooo!_"

Claire gasped, but giggled. Ever since she'd arrived there a week ago, she'd wondered what the big deal about Massie was anyway. Her comebacks were okay, but not actually as funny as people pretended. Of course, becoming her friend had caused that wondering to melt away. That was expected; you couldn't think hat stuff and be friends at the same time.

"You said that Cam thinks of me to get mad?" Claire asked finally. "Is he mad _still_?"

Derrick tapped his chin, finally standing up. "Yes. He despises you. And he can be _very_ mean." He looked at Claire's reaction. "He hurt your feelings? Aaw."

How insensitive could one person be?

Claire smirked to herself and threw another soccer ball at him, hitting his stomach once more. "Was that good coach?"

"No!" Derrick replied, red-faced. "You were supposed to _kick_ it at the _net_, not me!"

"I also wasn't supposed to do this!" Claire pushed him back down and ran off giggling. Derrick got back up and chased her, until he'd caught up. Grabbing onto her, he spun around, and dropped her promptly on the floor.

"DEH-RICK!" Claire snapped, sounding just like Casey from _Life With Derrick._

"DEH-RICK!" Derrick mimicked her in a whiny old lady voice. He turned around, dropped his shorts, and wiggled his butt at her before running off laughing like a hyena.

_Boys._


	5. Camp Iroquois CxN

**Disclaimer: You know by now!**

**AN: I don't know why, but I suddenly wanted to do a friendship thing. Yeah, in the first part they talk like little kids, and that's on purpose. But don't get mad - Claire gets on my nerves and I still gave her a Clairington oneshot!**

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**-J**uly 3rd, 1998-

"Derrick, please stop yelling!" Counselor Judi ran a hand through her hair and sighed heavily, wishing desperately that the three-year-old boy would run out of energy. He was like the Energizer bunny, never stopping, and never running out. Unless you counted the two seconds he'd stopped to lie down, and then hopped back up with more energy than before. Judi was starting to suspect that he'd taken some of the coffee the cook had left out by mistake.

"But I want Cam to sit _hewe_!" Derrick snapped, grabbing his companion by the sleeve of his little leather jacket. "I don't want him do sit over dare!" He started on his way to the blue table, like that made it final.

If Judi couldn't control the kids, she would get fired. And if she got fired, then she would have to go back home and face her mother – who had told her a counselor as a quick money-making job wasn't good enough for a woman with a child. No way, she _could_ handle this! She grabbed Cam's other arm and pulled him back, stopping Derrick in his tracks.

"Look, I didn't pick these seats. The Head Counselor did, and unless you want to go home, you'll go and sit with Kemp and Chris P., and just let it go," Judi hardened her tone. Derrick spat at her shoes and walked away. Spoiled little…

Cam tugged on her sleeve. When she looked down, he was looking up at her with those piercing eyes. "Where am I s'posed to sit, den?"

"Over at the green table." Judi pointed over to a table where three girls were already sitting, working quietly on their Popsicle stick sculptures. Okay, one of them was working quietly; the other two were talking nonstop. Even though there weren't any other boys at the table, Cam just walked over calmly, his bored expression never changing.

"Who are you?" One of the girls at the table asked rudely, giving him a look. The two who had been talking rolled their eyes, and one of them shoved the girl.

"Forget Aecia, she's stupid." One of them stuck out a sticky hand to shake. "My name is Nikki. What's your name?"

"Cam." The boy replied simply. He stayed quiet the rest of the activity time, but that was what started it all.

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**-J**uly 15th, 2000-

"Okay everyone," Judi smiled weakly, knowing that someone was going to complain about the latest project. She didn't blame them for it either. What five year olds wanted to sit still and draw each other? What five year olds wanted to sit still? "You are going to pick a partner and draw a picture of them."

Sure enough, a chorus of groans rang out. The kids scrambled to pick their partners, not wanting someone else to snatch their best friend. To Judi's amusement, Derrick rushed over to draw a picture of one of the new girls to the camp, instead of going with his best friend like he had for the past two years.

"Brina!" Nikki walked over to her friend, not amused to see that she'd decided to draw one of the boys who they'd labeled as cute only seconds earlier.

When all of them were partnered, the floor was clear except for two, little Cam and Nikki. Judi shook her head sadly, but smiled and walked over. She knew what kids could be like – back home in Orlando, her daughter refused to work with boys.

"You two are going to have to work together, okay?" She asked patiently, waiting for the outbursts.

"Okay."

Judi watched in relief as the two walked over to the remaining two easels, carefully choosing their colors. They made finger painting look like a delicate art.

"I can't draw just so you know," Nikki informed Cam. Maybe she should just draw a stick figure with floppy hair. Or would that be mean?

Cam didn't answer; he just went to work on his masterpiece. Halfway into the class he was done. When Nikki asked to see it, he turned the easel to show a girl with stick hair and a huge nose. _That_ was insulting.

"My nose is _not _that big!" Nikki snapped, pointing at it with a paint-covered finger.

"How would you know?"

"Well your feet are huge!" Nikki dipped a finger into the black paint and made his feet grow about ten sizes bigger. She whirled the easel around and smirked at his exaggerated reaction.

"You have gorilla arms!" Cam slathered paint over the arms he'd drawn, so that the person didn't even resemble a person anymore.

The two spent the half-hour messing the pictures up. By the end of the thirty minutes, both pictures resembled abstract art. Just blurs of color and shapes unknown yet to mankind. They both got Fs.

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**-A**ugust 22nd, 2003-

"**Y**ou have to show me how you did that!"

Nikki turned around, an expression of pure confusion on her face. "What do you mean? All I did was smile and act cute!"

"But you completely charmed them!" Cam was out of breath from running to catch up. "Even my mom, and you know how crazy she is! She thinks I should _marry you_!" He sounded like the apocalypse had just come.

Judi stopped putting her suitcase in her rental Ford Taurus and watched the exchange, feeling a little nostalgic. Okay, if she wasn't home by the time she said she would be, her daughter Claire would start freaking out. Even though Judi went up to New York every July and returned every August, Claire still acted surprised. And she still missed her terribly over the summer.

"Ew," Nikki scrunched her face in confusion. "But, I can't tell you. Not unless you want her to smother you even more Cammie-Boy."

"Don't call me that!" Cam replied, turning red at the mention of the nickname his mother had lovingly picked for him. It wasn't fair that he was 'Cammie-Boy' and Derrick was 'D'. He would've rather been called 'Little Man'.

Nikki just smirked and shrugged, picking her suitcase back up off of the ground. "You want to know my secret?"

"Yes!"

"You sure about that?" Nikki taunted. Judi smiled and shook her head, admiring how much they'd grown over the years. It was like one of those parenting moments.

"Okay, it's _female intuition_." Nikki smiled brightly and Cam gave her a flat look. That wasn't what he meant. "Well, if you want to give that a try, you know the phone number!" She put all fingers down except for her pinky and thumb, and held her hand to her ear, the universal sign for _call me_.

"You know I hate you, right?" Cam grumbled.

"Yes," Nikki replied, smiling innocently. She put her suitcase in her dad's red Porsche and climbed inside. She closed the door right in his face.

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-**J**uly 31st, 2007-

"What're you working on?" Nikki asked, flopping carelessly next to Cam on the bench. He immediately hid his drawing from view, closing the notebook.

"Nothing! Just redrawing something from a long time ago," Cam mumbled vaguely. Nikki folded her arms and gave him a sarcastic look. What was so bad about the drawing that he had to hide? It wasn't a remake of one of Kemp's old 'Picassos' (which just happened to get him banned from camp activities), was it? But he wouldn't do that…right?

"Why can't you tell me?" Nikki pleaded, giving him puppy dog eyes. "I told you lot's of stuff! Like Nicky Cecil likes you! I was supposed to keep that a secret you know."

Cam sighed heavily, and opened the notebook flipping to a sketch. Inside it was a smiling girl about his age with blunt bangs, and dark hair. "It's a remake of those pictures we had to paint when we were five. I'll give you a copy when it's finished."

Nikki almost hugged him. _A copy_? "Why can't I just have that one?"

"Because it's the best thing I ever drew," Cam replied, adding a little more shadow. That was good enough. She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

Judi watched it with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to stomp over there and break the cute little scene up. '_What about Claire?' _She wanted to know. _'What about my daughter who you've been going out with for months?'_ But she didn't. She just watched the exchange, and the sinking feeling went away. But, to her own shock, that fuzzy 'oh so cute' feeling took over.

Maybe Claire would like that Dempsey boy better.

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-**O**ver the seventh grade school year-

Claire opened the book bag, completely ignoring the complaints of Cam, who had been pounding on the door for what felt like hours. She dropped his cell phone back in the bag and sighed heavily, wondering what else she would find. Her hands brushed against a metal spiral, and she took out a cherry red notebook labeled _DO NOT OPEN._

Flipping through it, Claire almost smiled at the series of imaginative sketches…until she got to another section of it. There was a picture of a little boy, undeniably Cam, a brunette with bangs, and what looked like her mom in her twenties.

She felt positively sick looking at it. And Claire felt even worse when she turned the page and saw what was on it. A professional-looking sketch of a smiling girl who, with a different nose, lower cheekbones and different hair could've passed for Claire. And Claire tried to convince herself it was. But, she saw, in his messy handwriting:

_Nikki Dalton, Jul. 31__st__, '07._

If Claire had thought that she felt sick before, she felt about ten times worse.


	6. Her Favorite Colors JxM

**Disclaimer: Yada bla, don't own.**

**AN: Now, here's the long awaited Jassie! Please don't murder me for it being more cute than romantic. ****(AU)**

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**T**he five-year-old girl looked at her new classmate in pure horror. From the look on her face, you would've sworn that the stain on her new shoes was blood. She looked ready to kill – and the boy backed away on impulse.

"You got purple paint on my rain boots!" The girl bent down and tried rubbing the paint of with her thumb. It was no use, they were ruined. Her precious new shoes that she'd picked out all by herself were _soiled_.

In the store, they'd been so pretty, bright and shiny. The same color as the marshmallows her mother never ate because of 'high fat content'. The color of the shiny pearls she'd gotten on her fourth birthday. The same lovely color as the puffy clouds, which she was convinced, tasted like cotton candy.

If any other kindergartener owned them, they would've been the most beautiful rain boots in their entire closet. But some other girl hadn't been lucky enough to grab them off of the shelf in the kiddies' section in the mall. Massie Block had. And now they were ruined.

"It looks better like that!" The boy insisted, holding his arms up as if they would protect him from Massie's wrath. "I like the colors together! It's like…uh…" He tapped his chin to think about what was purple and white together.

"Josh, apologize to Massie," Miss Tussah sighed heavily, looking back at her dresser drawer. Only a bunch of tattling little kids stood in between her and a bottle of extra strength Tylenol. "Now."

"Sorry I spilled paint on your shoes," Josh looked and the floor shyly. Massie knew he was just trying to be cute so he would stay out of trouble. She did the same thing all the time. "Do you forgive me?"

"No." She turned away, folding her arms stubbornly. What would her mommy say when she came home with ruined boots? Miss Tussah rolled her eyes in defeat.

"But purple's the color of royalty!" Josh suddenly offered, trying to patch things up. If Massie didn't accept his apology, then he would have to sit in the time-out chair for a whole, long, never-ending, six minutes. It was pure torture.

"Daddy always said I was a princess," Massie admitted thoughtfully. She tapped her chin. "Okay, I forgive you. But we have to make the boots _all_ purple!"

"Done," Josh agreed, extending a hand.

"And done," Massie smiled, shaking it politely.

Holding hands, the two ran over to a tub of purple paint and decided to start their masterpiece. After all, it was a million times more fun painting pretty rain boots than painting on a stupid piece of paper. It didn't even matter than Massie's mom almost fainted at the sight of the very expensive shoes sloppily painted purple with white stripes – Massie had fun.

And so, years later when her dad asked her how she wanted her room down – the choice was obvious.

"Purple and white!"


	7. Nothing More CxLxC

**Disclaimer: Recognition goes to the author (me!) and the character-creator.**

**AN: I always wanted to write one of these scenes, but the story always died before I got the chance, just like Nothing More. (AU) Oh, and I will get around to request. I just put my own needs first. 0XD**

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_**C.L.**_

All she could focus on were her senses. More specifically, feeling. Everything around her was a blur as she ran, just like in the school fundraiser she'd just ran for. The only thing that she really noticed was pain. How hard her foot hit the ground, and how that stung. How the back of her eyes stung like they were getting acupuncture. How her feet were sore from those stupid shoes she'd worn to impress him.

Most of all, she felt the heartbreak.

Like a giant wave, it took over her, and her willpower was the only thing stopping her from breaking out into wrenching sobs. Her throat was locking tight, and she wondered for a second if she was coming down with asthma. But, instead of a bronchial disease, it was just how hard she was running, and how upset she was.

She could hear him, calling her. He sounded confused, like her running away was something completely random. How could he be so clueless? According to Alicia, the whole school knew. She said it was just like Chase and Zoey. But, he sounded so puzzled, and it sounded so cute.

If she wasn't trying to run away from him, she would've turned right back around.

_**C.F.**_

He followed after, calling her over and over. Claire hadn't looked back once, like he'd done something wrong. He didn't understand at all. Wasn't she his friend? Then why was she so upset?

He would never understand girls.

He could only think back, and try to see what was going on. Everybody had said they should've gotten together, but that was impossible. After all, it wasn't like they actually _like-liked_ each other. (Ew.) Strictly friends: that was the policy. And the guy code simply stated that you don't _ever_ date friends.

All he could remember was the times they'd hung out together. Watching Shark Tale, and talking about how stupid it was that Oscar would magically fall for Angie, just because she said she liked him, when he was so infatuated with Lola. Or the time they'd booed the plan to put best friends Dylan and Kemp together. Or even when they'd both fallen out of the tree in his yard and gotten giant scratches on their arm – telling everyone that they'd done what Peris and Tally had done in _Uglies_.

He kept calling her, still feeling lost and confused. She kept refusing to turn around. And after a while, he stopped chasing after her. It must've been a girl thing, right? One of those things a guy wouldn't understand for the life of him.

Claire would be back to normal by the next day, right? But something, call it the sixth sense, told him the chance of that was slim to none. If only he knew why.

_**L.A.**_

She kept her head held high. She could already hear the rumors floating around, completely wrong perceptions of what had happened. They would whisper about it, label her for it, and immediately side with Claire. Everyone would immediately give their boyfriends a list of rules, all designed so that they'd be forbidden from acknowledging her.

But, she hadn't done anything.

It wasn't her fault she wasn't as close with some of her old friends – who had, in the words of Massie Block, moved on to 'bigger and better things'. She couldn't be blamed, if Claire had repeatedly told everyone that she had no interest in Cam, and that the two were only friends. It wasn't her fault or problem, if that had been the biggest lie she ever told.

He was there, out of breath, putting a hand on the wall for support. His face was flushed from running, and he moved carefully, as if turning to fast would cause him to fall apart. The only thing on his face was a question. _Why?_

Of course, Cam couldn't have known the answer his best-friend-who-is-a-girl had ran off like she was in a triathlon. He was a guy, and like most guys, utterly clueless when it came to that stuff. But, she wasn't. She was supposed to know.

Claire's voice rang in her head, gabbing on about how everyone thought that she and Cam would be cute, and how that would never happen. The nervous, _disagree-with-me-please_ tone Claire used echoed in her thoughts, until she couldn't hear anything else.

Tomorrow was not going to be pretty.

_**C.L.**_

"How could you do this to me?" Were the first words out of her lips the moment she saw Layne opening her locker. "I thought you were my friend!"

Layne studied her, like an art dealer would to a painting. Her cat-shaped eyes scrutinized Claire's face, like she was searching for an answer. What would she say when she saw all of the hurt that she'd caused? What would Layne say when she saw the puffy, red eyes, swollen face, badly-applied makeup in a pathetic attempt at hiding it?

"I'm sorry, but did you just mistake me for Massie? She's across the hall." Layne pointed an un-manicured finger in the general direction of the squealing Pretty Committee. "Because, I thought you were onto 'better things' than me." She shoved a science text book in with force.

Claire let out an unintended gasp, and covered her mouth. "What are you talking about? We were friends! Best friends!"

"Were," Layne pointed out, shoving in a red notebook. "Don't mix up your tenses, Mrs. Malice will have your head."

Claire swallowed hard, and her mouth began to taste like pennies. She blinked back more tears, and finally found the energy to say: "So you would do that to get back at me?"

Layne slammed her locker shut, and turned her impassive gaze on her ex-friend. "No, I wouldn't. I don't see a point in petty revenges, you're really mistaking me for Massie. I wouldn't do _anything_ to get back at you."

"_Why?"_ Claire choked out, her eyes starting to sting again. She was fighting to hold back the tears, but Layne remained unaffected. She'd used the tear-tactic way too many times for it to actually work on anybody anymore.

"Why? Claire, isn't it obvious?" Layne asked, picking up her brown hobo bag. "Because he likes me, not you. If you hadn't spent all that time telling him how you were just friends, then you might've had a chance."

Before Claire could say anything else, Layne walked off, not once looking back. Claire trudged slowly across the hall, as if she was going to be executed. She went in the same direction Layne had oh-so-kindly pointed out.

"Guys, you won't believe what just happened," Claire mumbled.

"How many gossip points?" Alicia demanded.

"None, it's about me…"

Claire was ignored.

_**C.F.**_

"You heard any of the rumors floating around?" Layne didn't take her eyes off of the skyline. Somehow, he knew she'd be on the roof, for a quiet escape. While the others hung out down in the cafeteria, she would be there just admiring the sky, or some other weird thing.

"Unfortunately," Cam answered sitting down next to her. "Some people say that you're the new Nina, whatever that's supposed to mean."

"Great. Thank you for the information. Now get off my roof." Layne buried her head in her knees, expecting that when she lifted her head up, that he would be gone. She peeked out from under her arm. He was still there.

"I don't even know what I did. Plovert is all mad at me, and you know about his Claire infatuation. Apparently I broke her heart or something. But we're only friends." Cam leaned back and looked up at the clouds floating above them.

She just sighed heavily, and averted her eyes to the ground, where a group of girls was leaving the campus. Judging by the large amount of random people crowded around them, they were probably the Pretty Committee.

"I mean, they're so immature, a kiss is a kiss…" he trailed off when he saw how upset she looked. "I don't think you're a Nina or whatever."

"Thank you." Layne rolled her eyes, and leaned back too. "Whatever happened to your BFF?" He winced visibly at the biting sarcasm in her voice. She was so…bitter. It was a nice contrast to some of the sugary sweet girls that surrounded him daily.

"She said we can't be friends if I talk to you."

"You better run before you get in trouble with her then," she didn't look at him when she spoke. "The last thing I want to hear is Massie telling me that I'm 'dead to her'. Does that make any sense to you?"

"No, it doesn't." Cam figured it was another girl thing. "And I'm already in trouble with her _and_ her PTC friends." Layne didn't bother to correct him, by informing him it was 'TPC'. Instead, she sat up, tearing her eyes away from a puffy white cloud that had floated above them.

"Why? You told Massie that those high-waisted pants those fashion magazines say were 'in' are the fugliest things you've ever seen?"

"Ha, ha," he rolled his eyes. "I'm in trouble because I refused. Real friends don't give ultimatums. Obsessive and scary girlfriends do."

Layne sat up straighter, and smirked at him. He already knew where it was going.

"So, you failed to notice that about her?"

"Yes, Abeley! Happy?"

Layne lay back down, folding her arms behind her head. "Yes Fisher. I'm ecstatic."


	8. Four Minutes DxJ

**Four Minutes**

**S**he looks away from the television monitor and sighs. Only playing with the plastic Spork that came with her meal, playing and waiting. She hasn't eaten, even though she's been there for two days. But, she has never complained. Occasionally, she would take a small bite of the food they provide, despite the fact it isn't the gourmet things she's used to. She hasn't fully slept. Her roommate had said that sometimes her light would be on. All she does is wait. Waiting, just wistfully staring out her window in hopes that she'll see him driving up. Waiting in vain.

--

**A**s practically everyone goes to deliver 'get well soon' balloons, he can't help but wonder. Why was it, that while friends, family, and the occasional random person whom she knew from afar would visit faithfully, and her own boyfriend wouldn't? He can't count how many times he's asked her boyfriend that question, and received the same answer. All her boyfriend can say is that she can't give him what he wants now. Even _his_ friends have gone to see her at least once. But each day, he refrains from doing so, spending more and more time with some other girl.

--

**S**he knows that she's sick, that she hasn't done it to herself. She can admit that without a problem. She knows that treatment isn't going to be easy, that's acceptable. But every day, as she stares out that same window, sighing in that pensive way, there's one thing that she can't accept. The doctors say that she'll be getting an operation soon. Even dropping off snacks for her, the kind old nurse will remind her that she's going under the knife soon. But, the thing she just can't seem to accept is that her own boyfriend won't come see her.

--

**H**e can't even bear to look at her boyfriend any more, or rather, her ex. Because, two days before her operation, he decided that it wasn't cool to have a girlfriend in the hospital. Her beloved boyfriend had decided to dump her when she needed him most. And the worst part was: her precious boyfriend had used a text message to do so. That explained why he was standing outside of the hospital, Mylar balloon in one hand, box of chocolates and a gift box in the other. After a while, he heads inside, concerned and ready for almost anything.

**--**

**S**he can't help but feel slight confusion as to why he was there, only a day before the operation, when things were starting to look bad. She looks hopefully in the doorway; just to see if the boy who said he loved her was there. Before her eyes could even finish their journey, he shook his head, letting her know that her boyfriend wasn't there. He wasn't showing up. Awkwardly walking over, as if he were walking the plank on a pirate's ship, he sat down next to her. Finally, he somehow manages to ask her uncomfortably: "So, what's up?"

--

**H**e feels his face flush when he realizes that's probably the worst possible thing to ask.

"What's up?" Her tone is flat and her usually flashing eyes are flat and lusterless. "I'm about to get a life-saving surgery, and he won't even come visit!" He looked at his shoes, but finally found the courage he'd spent all afternoon building up.

"I brought you some chocolates, and a balloon." After a short pause, he quickly ads, "And you don't need him."

"Who's going to hold my hand when they start the surgery?" He knew she meant it figuratively, and didn't answer.

--

"**W**ell?" She demands, her eyes becoming more alert. "They don't know what's wrong with me. I need a shoulder to cry on."

"His hair looks like it needs gastric bypass," he said calmly. "And you could always cry on someone else's shoulder." He paused when he saw the flat look she was giving him. "Don't tell me I bought chocolates and balloons for nothing, since you want me to leave so badly."

"I never said that." She snaps. She reaches over and snatches the box, opening it hungrily. "But thank you." She was being sarcastic, but she still eats some.

--

**J**ust when he was at a loss for words, the nurse pokes her head in, smiling like a grandmother. "He has to go now, you must be prepared for tomorrow." The nurse takes his hand and leads him away, while from the hospital bed, all she can do is watch. For the first time in a long while, a genuine smile forms on her face. She closes the chocolate box, and sighs to herself. In some small part of her, she wishes he could stay. Smiling once more, she takes a huge bite of her food. She needs the energy.

--

**I**n one small, brief visit, Dylan Marvil found the strength to move on. She continued to eat, and was soon well enough to leave the hospital behind. Of course, her return shocked and amazed all who hadn't been expecting it, Chris Plovert looked like he was going to melt into a puddle when he realized that she was back. But, the first thing she said upon coming back wasn't for him.

"Chocolates, Josh? You're trying to fatten me up."


	9. Real CxCP

**Disclaimer: ****Not Lisi.**

**AN: Boredom can do these things to you. CLOVERT**

* * *

**T**he Class Reunions at Octavian Country Day and its brother school Briarwood Academy have always been extravagant and ridiculous. From serving caviar at the snack table, to hiring a _string quartet_ to welcome back the former upperclassmen, there isn't anything that Principal Val – the replacement for the decrepit P. Burnz – wouldn't do to impress her new co-workers.

Not like anyone minded.

In fact, it seemed like mostly everyone had come there to flaunt something about their lives.

Kristen Gregory's brought out the big guns. Envy is her name, game, and claim to fame – and this time, she plans to make those who inflicted it upon her suffer the consequences. Her wrist is dripping with diamonds, her wallet is bulging in her Gucci clutch, and she's brought along a copy of the new magazine she's just become editor of: _K. (_Oh! She hadn't noticed it was _her _issue – she'd "just grabbed it") Ready for anything, she laughs that haughty laugh, and ignores the dents her jaw-droppingly expensive shoes leave behind.

Time to flaunt.

Alicia Rivera's refused to leave her secret weapon behind. Insecurities? As far as the world needs to know, they're a thing of the past: like bell bottomed pants. Her super-model fiancé who was hot enough to go by a stage name only: _The Griffin _(aka Gregory Hastings), hasn't removed his arm from around her waist. Together, it seems like their sole purpose is to glow that halo effect glow, and make everyone else feel ugly – whilst pretending not to notice. (Only a true sadist…) She showers listeners with stories of how romantic _The Griffin _is, and how he proposed in Paris. Leaving most girls seething at their own husband's lack of Casanova talents – Alicia continues on, knowing the one person she wants to see most.

Time to crush.

Dylan Marvil has a _Jenny Craig _t-shirt draped over her arm despite her champagne colored evening wear. Every move she makes was used to accentuate it, just to draw attention to it. Why? So she can laugh innocently, and talk about how she's the Jenny Craig spokeswoman – something which, to her, translates to _model_. Anyone who is foolish enough to ask gets a full story of her struggle, and how strong she is to overcome obesity and a harsh medical condition. (She can't seem to recall the disease – but _oh! It was life-threatening, she could've _died!) She watches their looks of admiration with mirth, smirking at any of the kids who'd called her "fat".

Time to win.

Massie Block uses the model stare she's spent about half of her life working on as she walks in the door. (Hope nobody saw you when you almost walked into that pole.) She steps like a prancing horse, exuding elegance and grace. She even does a little hair flip, the beat to "Calabria 2007" from that old Ikea commercial playing in the back of her mind. (Yes! That _is_ her signature walk – how'd you notice? Oh! You overheard her talking loudly about it to someone else! What a coincidence!) Everything she's wearing is Chanel, calling to attention that she's now their face. Anyone want to hear about how she got that jerk photographer fired for making her look a pound heavier? No? Too bad.

Time to rule.

Claire Lyons is definitely behind the curve.

She walks – _not an exaggerated saunter a _walk – into the reunion looking naturally beautiful without the excessive clothes and jewelry. She lets go of her two toddler's hands, watching as they scamper off to join the other little kids who were being taken off for educational programming (Spongebob Squarepants). She holds onto her husband's hands, giggling as he plants a kiss on her forehead.

And instead of the faux casual "why hello there"; "I didn't notice you!"; or "My, how lovely to see you!"; she greets her old friends with a calm "Hey".

Kristen's diamond-covered bracelet slides to the floor.

Alicia's iron grip on _The Griffin _loosens.

Dylan lets her Jenny Craig t-shirt wrinkle in her arms.

Massie loses the blank stare.

Claire looks like a suburbia mom – she even has the signature pearl necklace. She's got two little kids, running around and creating a mess. Her clothes are _no-name_, and possibly purchased from such places as Marshall's and JC Penny. Her chandelier earrings are _clearly _fake.

It's something each girl wants to comment on, but can't seem to find the words as Chris Plovert wraps his arms around her. The breath falls out of each mouth, all words gone as Chris whispers something in her ear and she laughs happily, blushing. As Claire ruffles his hair and he says something about looking like Prince Harry on a windy golf course – clearly an inside joke, and the two of them laugh, all reasons to brag were forgotten.

Kristen's alone at night.

Alicia's been drinking to ignore _The Griffin's _flirtatiousness with other women.

Dylan still weighs herself every morning, just to make sure.

Massie's practically had to sell herself to get where she was that day.

The masks slipped off; the masquerade was over. And just at that second, everyone was real.

Nobody had ever envied them more.


	10. Blur CxA

**AN: I actually think that Olivia's Party needed to be recounted, so I just made this. Yeah.**

* * *

**B**_l__**u**_r  
_ _ _ _

_Blame it on the goose//Got you feelin' loose//Blame it on the drone//Got you in the song//Blame it on the a-a-a-alcohol  
_**~Blame It**; Jamie Fox~

**1200 HRS**

Cameron Fisher wasn't a morning person. Usually, he slept like a bear, drifting carefully, only to crash into a deep sleep headfirst. And without the blaring sound of a Great Dane-shaped alarm clock howling "Rooby Roooby Roo", he usually never woke up.

For some reason that he couldn't quite figure out, he did anyway, at what he considered the ungodly hour of midnight.

Sitting up was painful, and his head nearly split in half just by the small motion. Everything looked like an abstract watercolor painting, colors and lines fuzzed together into random shapes. And strangely, he felt like he was hanging upside down, even though he could barely see that he wasn't on the ceiling. It was only when his fogged-over vision cleared up that something dawned on him.

This wasn't his house. This wasn't his room. This wasn't his _bed._

Had he been kidnapped? Was he still asleep? Was this a dream? Had he entered the Twilight Zone? He couldn't see an answer to any of those, just a pounding base coming from behind a closed door.

But the shirt across the room on the floor – (the one his mother had spent forever ironing to get out all those "nasty little wrinkles") – was definitely his. The black leather jacket by the door was _definitely _his; there was no mistaking that fishy smell. He even saw his socks lying in a pathetically crumpled heap.

"What the…?" It hurt to speak with a burning dry throat, and the feeling that something was sawing through your brain. Instead of trying to do anything else, he sank back down, wondering if he'd died. _Why did heaven feel so weird? Unless he was in hell…then why was it so cold?_

Promising himself that he would get up as soon as he could remember anything – like, his name or phone number – he took a deep breath and sighed.

The air reeked strongly of Angel perfume.

**1200 HRS (ELSEWHERE)**

"So am I going to drop her off on a park bench or what?" There was no denying the smugness in Dania Marvil's voice. Even though she was focused on the road, Dylan could still see that her lips were curled up into a grin. Of course it was – Dania's gossip obsession was what made most of it so amusing for her.

"No, her house," Dylan mumbled, trying to look anywhere but behind her. Alicia was sprawled on the backseat, practically half-dead.

"Where am I?" She slurred, sitting up a little. "Dill," a pain filled smile formed on her face. "My best friend…" The girl had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. Dania smirked to herself, muttering about 'youth these days'.

Dylan shook her head, unable to stop the anger from building in her. "What were you thinking?" She demanded over the radio. "What about our _other best friend _hmm? What about Claire?"

Alicia squinted in confusion, holding her head. "Who?"

**1146 HRS**

"And _en-ee-way_," Cookie Elson rolled her dark eyes, watching some frat boy run by with a look of disgust on her face. "I heard that they sent him off to juvie – I don't even know _where _he got the drugs from!" She smiled brightly at her friend's usual nods and comments on the now week-old news. Being the center of attention was what she strived for – living in the shadows was absolutely no fun at all.

"He's crazy, I swear," an extremely pale Massie Block slurred from her seat on the couch. She was clutching an ice pack to her forehead, ignoring the strange looks people gave her. "Who's actually _that _stupid?"

"Hmph," Olivia Ryan made a strange little noise, not exactly interested in anything that Cookie had to say. Her icy eyes landed on something else that perked her interest, and her ever-present smirk grew in size. Cookie rolled her eyes, knowing that something bad was going to happen to some innocent person – it was what made Olivia smile the most.

Freaking sadist.

"Scandalous hookup, four o' clock," Olivia said from over a martini glass, glancing up at the stairway, where numerous people were either heading upstairs or coming back down. Massie gasped and sat up quickly, wincing in pain. Cookie couldn't help but do the same – minus the drunken pain part. "I knew Fisher couldn't have been _that _innocent." The happiness in her voice was all too obvious. "Guess he's not better than any of the rest of us."

"Oh my god, I feel so bad for Claire right now!" Cookie's cat-shaped eyes widened, and she bit her lip nervously.

"Screw the chick," came Olivia's amused reply. "I never liked her anyway."

**1100 HRS**

Drink in hand; he pushed through the crowd, a newfound confidence surging through him. Yeah, he truly _did _have the swagger of a champion. "Derrick, get me another bottle," the words jumbled together, but his shaggy-haired friend still understood them.

"Nah man, you don't need anymore." Derrick Harrington scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly abashed. _Guilt? Harrington? Noo…_

"Whatever," Cameron Fisher finished the rest of his cup, and grabbed a nearby bottle, continuing on his way through the dance floor. There were tons of people packed together like sardines in a can, but not one of them mattered to him. His focus mainly on the kitchen – _he need more of that 'buzz' feeling, _he practically slammed into a girl (he swore he recognized her from somewhere) in a red and black dress.

Who didn't look half bad…

"Hey," she grinned at him from over a Heineken bottle.

"Hey."

**0900 HRS**

"Please Dill!" Alicia grabbed her best friend's arm, widening her eyes and pouting like a puppy. "I don't want to go alone! Kristen's mom won't let her, and you know Claire's probably out with Cam or something. I'll do your hair. Please?"

Dylan rolled her eyes and flipped through another page of her magazine, not really wanting to hear it. "What's so great about it Leesh? It's just a bunch of seniors and other underage kids we know getting drunk and acting like idiots. And you don't even like half of the people who are going."

"Olivia's okay…she was in my math class last year," Alicia turned around and threw a pillow at Kristen Gregory when the girl snorted. "Come on Dill, here, you can borrow some of my stuff." Even though Dylan had clearly refused to go, Alicia dug through her overnight bag, pulling out about three different dresses. "Wear the lavender one!"

"Leesh," Kristen sighed again. "Dylan said _no."_

Alicia waved the blond away with a flick of the hand. "Please, Dylan knows she wants to go." She put an arm around Dylan and squeezed her shoulder. "You _did _say you want to meet someone."

That was all it took for Dylan to grab the halter and rush into her closet.

**0900 HRS (ELSEWHERE)**

"Look Claire, I can't make it tonight – I've got stuff to do." Cam closed the door behind him, sighing heavily and rolling his eyes. "Claire look, I'm sorry that I can't be there twenty-four seven. Why don't you go out with your friends or something?"

"But I can't," Claire sighed, just as annoyed as her boyfriend was. She ran a hand through her hair, staring up at her ceiling. Hopelessness spread through her. "I canceled on them because it's our date night, remember? We've been planning this for weeks?"

Cam just groaned. "Something came up, okay?"

Claire was silent on the other line, just staring at the picture of the two of them she had on her mirror. The sound of her iPod blasting in the background was the only other sound for a while.

_How did we get here? I used to know you so well…_

"But I don't want you there without me," Claire finally sighed, hating the way it sounded. Like some kind of obsessive girlfriend – the very last thing she wanted to be. But it was her right to be concerned, _right? _Cam and a bunch of desperate single girls, loud music, and alcohol? _No._

Cam scoffed – she could just see his joking sarcastic smirk. "What, do you think I'm going to cheat on you? Claire, you know I would never."

Claire couldn't help but smile. "That's okay. I knew you wouldn't."


	11. Wishes On A Dying Star GxLxO

**AN: Since I **_**am **_**in the one-shot mood. :) AN ALMOST DRIBBLE. (if a drabble is 100, isn't a dribble 200?)**

**Wishes On a Dying Star**

There's nothing she loves more than his music.

His voice is full of passion. He strums the guitar gently, closing emerald green eyes as he does so. The love he pours into the sound surrounds her whenever she listens, like being in a peaceful lake. As he sings, the other people around him fall silent, and just listen, in awe. His lyrics are like silk.

He sings of lost love. He sings of found love. He sings of _true love_.

And she sits there with her eyes closed, drinking it in. She doesn't open her eyes even when he's finished, because she knows that _his girlfriend_ is going to go up and kiss him in front of everyone.

Because she knows that Griffin wrote the song for Layne and not her.

She still imagines that it was written all about her. Instead of _ebony hair_, he meant _golden_. Instead of _emerald eyes_, he meant _azure_.

Just like with everything else in her life (_saying that she's really Alicia's friend; telling people that she changed her nose to look better, not because of a bike accident; letting her mother believe that she goes to Massie's sleepovers every weekend) _Olivia Ryan can pretend.


End file.
